


fight the worst in me

by schwiftyNouf (wynscorp)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Depictions of addiction, Eventual Smut, F/F, First point of view, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Wynonna’s POV, Wynsita
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26425300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynscorp/pseuds/schwiftyNouf
Summary: Wynonna finally goes to her first AA meeting - maybe not so willingly - and finds an unexpectedly familiar face.Things begin to unravel for her as she explores her new journey to recovery and discovering who she really is.//TW addiction, alcoholism, and mental health issues
Relationships: Doc Holliday/Xavier Dolls, Rosita Bustillos & Wynonna Earp, Rosita Bustillos/Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Xavier Dolls & Doc Holliday
Comments: 35
Kudos: 66





	1. I Am Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brunetteandblond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunetteandblond/gifts).



> This story idea really means a lot to me (as a recovery addict myself) and seeing as Wynonna clearly has alcoholism issues -- which are never addressed in the show -- I thought it'd be a good idea to have it be the focus point of this story. 
> 
> As well as Wynsita (Wynonna/Rosita), of course. 
> 
> Thank you to [ brunetteandblond ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunetteandblond/profile) for being the coolest Wynsita ICON and fangirling about them with me.

_Monsters in the closet honey_ _  
Monsters overhead  
Monsters lying next to me at night before I rest  
They gonna haunt me  
They gonna twist me into knots  
Don't let me haunt you, I beg_

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t. I don’t. I _don’t_.

“You ready?” Waverly’s soft voice came from beside me, her hand landing on my shoulder.

“Yup. Ready as ever,” I lied.

“You’re gonna do fine, you know that, right?” Waverly told me reassuringly, but nothing was reassuring about anything, really.

Yeah, it was one meeting. One AA meeting. But I never wanted this. I don’t want this. I don’t have a drinking problem; drinking was just an Earp thing passed along several generations. Don’t know how Waverly skipped it, but it is. It’s just genetics. Not an illness. There’s nothing wrong with me. _There’s nothing wrong with me._

“Yeah. The only thing keeping me going is that I’m doing this for you, baby girl.”

“’Nona, I need you to do this for _you_ , not me,” she emphasized.

“Yup, that’s what I meant,” I scoffed lightheartedly and brushed it off, causing her to sigh in defeat.

I stared at the small building at the corner of the street with my hands shoved into my pockets. Walking into those doors could possibly change my life… or I could just pretend it does to get Waverly and Nicole off my back.

I took a deep breath in and began to walk across the street as soon as the walking signal turned green, Waverly closely following suit. It felt like the longest walk of my life; I kept my eyes glued to my feet, every step resonating louder and louder through my chest. I didn’t want to look up. I mean, I knew it was inevitable, but it’s like I wanted to savor every last second of _not_ being in that meeting for as long as I could.

“Alright,” I cleared my throat as we reached the front doors to the doomed building. “I’ll see you on the flipside.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to come in with you?”

“No, of course not. If I want any real progress, I gotta be absolutely comfortable to say whatever I want, right?” I told her, but really, I just didn’t want her around to see me not take a second of it seriously. As if I was actually gonna speak at this thing. Ha.

“Okay, whatever you need. I’ll be here to pick you up, alright?”

“Cool, cool, cool. No biggie. Just gonna…” I inhaled sharply between my teeth and pointed my thumbs backwards to the front door, “get inside now.”

I grabbed the handle and opened the door torturously slow; I didn’t know what to expect and I wasn’t quite ready to find out. Donuts? They always put donuts in movies, don’t they? That’ll be something to look forward to.

Finally, the full room came into view. Several chairs were arranged in a large circle, attendees already sitting in their spots and only a few chairs empty. It seemed like they had already started because the spacious room turned extremely quiet once I came into view.

I gulped. Their eyes were burning through me. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets and cleared my throat as I made my way to an empty chair, passing by the large sign that had “Alcoholics Anonymous” written on it. Maybe I should just leave? And then I could come back right before Waves picks me up, right? That way, I could just—

“Hello, you’ve made it just in time,” an old man who seemed to be the head of the group said, rudely interrupting the internal plotting of my escape plan. “Take a seat. We’re just doing introductions.”

I sighed deeply, removed my leather jacket and hung it around the board of the chair, leaving me in my white T-shirt and ripped jeans. I sat down clumsily, legs spread wide, and I’m pretty sure the _I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck_ was very visible on my face.

I laid my back against the board of the chair and slowly scanned the room. Man, these people looked sad. That’s not me, is it? Definitely not.

Then my eyes fell on ones I did not expect to see again. Was that… Rosita? Rosita Bustillos sitting across from me? No fucking way. I haven’t seen her since high school. What was she doing here? And why were her eyes on me like that? And damn, did she… _grow_.

And wait a fucking second, did she just—? She did, didn’t she? That bitch just rolled her eyes at me! What the fuck did I ever do to her? If anything, I should be rolling my eyes at her! She was a scrawny little brat. I think she was in Waverly’s grade. She was such a rebel – or at least she tried to be – I shouldn’t be surprised to see her here. That’s okay to say, right? I’m here too, I should be allowed to say shit like that. Right?

Meanwhile, people were busy introducing themselves; “Hi, my name is Adam and I’m an alcoholic.”

I’d say how he looked like but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of stupid Rosita. She got some nerve, sitting there in that _revealing_ red tank top, rolling her eyes at me like I ever did anything to her.

But she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Why wasn’t she looking at me anymore?

“Hi, my name is Rosita and I’m an alcoholic.”

Fuck. I mean, I knew she’d say it eventually, but _fuck_.

“Hi Rosita,” the whole group chimed in harmony.

Suddenly all their eyes were on me. That’s when I realized I was the only one who hadn’t spoken up.

“Oh, um… my name’s Wynonna,” I tightly smiled like I clearly had no idea what was going on. “I’m not an alcoholic, I’m just here ‘cause my sister insists that I should try it out.”

My eyes immediately darted back to Rosita once I heard a scoff come out of her. My jaw dropped in offense because – how the fuck dare she? She just sat there with her elbows propped up against the back of the chair, her head pointed to the side, looking so smug.

“Hi Wynonna,” everyone but Rosita said. God, did no one else think that sounds cultish as hell?

“So, Wynonna, I’m assuming this is your first meeting, right? Why do you think your sister insists on you coming to one?” The old man from earlier asked. He seemed nice, not gonna lie. He was a bit chubby and had dirty blonde hair and a scruffy beard and mustache.

“The fuck should I know,” I shrugged. “She thinks I’m an alcoholic. Which I’m not. Like I said.”

“Mhm…” The man nodded understandingly. “If I may ask, when was the last time you drank?”

I clenched my jaw. I knew very well the last time I drank was just this morning. But I know how that sounds in an AA meeting. Anything here will sound dramatic.

“I—um—I don’t—actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to just observe today, alright? Please.”

“Okay, that’s okay too,” the man smiled. “Since you missed my introduction, my name is Randy. Randy Nedley. I’ll come talk to you afterwards if you’d like but for now…”

I furrowed my brows as he looked around the room.

“Rosita,” he said, causing her to drop her arms and pay full attention to the man. “How’re your temptations going since you got that 3-year chip last week?”

“Um, well, you know. It’s hard. It’s always going to be. But it’s been easier. Hitting the big three was kind of surreal, I…” she sighed and placed her elbows on her knees. “I almost fucked it up. Nothing happened, really, but… Three years is just… I thought I’d feel something. But I didn’t. I felt proud for like a _second_ , but then I just wanted to reward myself by drinking so I just felt like I was back at square one.”

Damn… Three years? This was a side of Rosita I definitely never thought I’d witness. I almost felt like I was invading her privacy by being there.

“Understandable,” Randy said. “Good job on not giving in; we’re all proud of you. And you know that even if you do, we’ll still be here to lift you up again.”

“Thank you,” she smiled and laid her back against the chair once again.

I lifted my feet up on the chair and hugged my knees as my ears drowned with people’s experiences and feelings on the matter. I felt my heart beat louder and louder. I could feel it in my throat. I felt suffocated.

I never thought sitting in a room listening to people’s sob stories would actually make a difference, but somehow, I think it did.

The meeting ended with everyone harmoniously citing a prayer. I felt rude for not joining in, but honestly it just didn’t feel right. Like I didn’t belong… yet.

Shit, was I really considering this? Is this what cults do? They just brainwash you or some shit? Fuck.

Everyone stood up and scattered along, some continued conversation along a table of snacks which I immediately made my way to. Just as I was about to get my hands on some stale looking cookies, Randy came up beside me.

“Hey there,” he nodded in greeting.

“Sup,” I said before biting off a cookie.

“Good job on your first day. I know it’s tough to accept sometimes, but whenever you need it, we’re all here. We’re one big anonymous community and there ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of.” He shoved his hand down the pen pocket of his shirt and took out a card. “This is me. Don’t be afraid to call. And whenever you’d like, you could get yourself a sponsor too.”

“A sponsor?” I questioned with a mouthful of cookies.

“Yeah. You know, someone who could help you – a newcomer – get sober. Rosita might be a good choice for you – the girl in red. She might not have 9 years of sobriety, but she’s one tough lady.”

I laughed at the suggestion. “Yeah, no, I’m good, buddy. Plus, like I said, this was just a trial.”

“Alright,” he smiled. “Just think about it.” He waved his card further towards me in suggestion. I rolled my eyes and took the card anyway just to end the conversation.

Finally, I left the building to see if Waverly had arrived yet – which she hadn’t – but instead found Rosita leaning against the brick wall of the building, smoking a cigarette.

“Didn’t peg you for a smoker,” I cleared my throat and casually leaned against the wall next to her.

“Didn’t you though?”

Our eyes never met once.

I exaggeratingly curved the corner of my lips downward, as if in defeat, and looked down at my feet. “I guess it’s not too much of a surprise. You were a rebel and whatnot.”

She laughed. And I didn’t know why, but I wanted to hear it again.

“Yeah, and you were a bully,” she said.

I turned to look at her, and this time, our eyes did meet.

“Was not,” I scoffed.

“Were too,” she scoffed back. “Wynonna, you followed me around just to point and laugh with your jock friends.”

My name sounded nice on her lips. And wait—what?

“I didn’t—wait, you were, like—” I sighed. “I don’t know… _shit_.”

“Yup. You had vodka in your water bottle, too. You used to tell me to ‘chillax’ and take a sip.”

“Now that is just _not_ true,” I gasped in disbelief.

“It literally is!” She said with a laugh and dropped her cigarette on the ground before stepping on it. “You had a dark grey water bottle. There was a Backstreet Boys sticker that you had on the bottom of it so no one would really notice it.”

“But you did…” I squinted my eyes and felt my lips curve into a smile before it quickly fell at the realization of what I did to her. “I’m sorry Rosita. I forgot that I was… clearly a dick.”

“Hmm,” she shrugged. “You had your moments.”

I felt the smile creep back up on my lips and if I didn’t know any better, I think my cheeks were tinted red. “So, uh… three years, huh?”

“Yup,” she tightly smiled and pulled out her pack of cigarettes from her brown leather jacket’s inside pocket.

She flicked the top open and gestured it to me. “Nah. I don’t smoke anymore. Makes my hair smell.”

“Right,” she smiled and bent down to grab the bud she had previously stepped on. I watched with curious eyes as she grabbed the bud and placed it back inside the pack.

“What’re you doing?”

“Don’t want any birds choking on it,” she shrugged.

“Damn, you’ve really changed, huh.”

“I’ve always been considerate of… the planet… or whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes as if she were ashamed of the softness of it all. “You just didn’t really know me that well.”

“You’re literally smoking, though.”

She laughed that glorious laugh once again before returning her pack to her pocket. “I might be smoking because I need an addiction to replace my last one, but Imma quit this too. I swear!”

I eyed the shorter girl up and down and nibbled on my lower lip, cursing myself for what was about to come out of my mouth. “I’m proud of you.”

“What?”

“I mean, I—three years, you know, that’s… cool,” I cleared my throat. “Isn’t that something good you’re supposed to say? I-I don’t know, I—”

“Thank you, Wynonna,” she shyly grinned and held her own hands in front of her, leaning off the wall and standing straight up in front of me. “Maybe I’ll see you next meeting. At least, I hope I do.”

“Um…” I gulped before I saw a red jeep make its way down the street and park beside us. “Yeah, I don’t know. Um, I gotta jet.”

I turned around without another word and opened the door to Waverly’s jeep as I heard Rosita’s voice call out, “Don’t be a stranger, Wyn.”

I looked back for just a second before ignoring her – because what the fuck do I say to that? – and riding in the passenger seat.

“Was that—was that just Rosita?” Waverly gasped.

“Just move.”

“I wanna say hi, oh my God—”

“Waverly, go!”

“Okay, okay.” She put the car on drive and took a sharp right turn. “So… how did it go?”

“It was fine.”

“Okay, um, are you thinking about going next week? Or maybe even end of this week?”

“I don’t know, Waves. Please, let’s just get home. I don’t wanna talk about it yet.”

Waverly nodded and sat in silence the rest of the ride home.

The truth was, I didn’t want to talk about it because a part of me actually considered it. And I didn’t want to admit to that. I was fine with the thought of lying about it before the meeting, but now that it actually might be true, I couldn’t face it.

Rosita’s words resonated in my mind. I chased her around and even offered alcohol to her… I had completely forgotten all about that. It’s like I blocked out any memory that even resembled that from my mind. I even forgot I used to pour alcohol into my water bottle. Was all that a bad sign from the start?

It was like some things just started to tie together, like I was connecting the dots. It’s like that feeling when you know you’ve walked down a street a hundred times, but one day, you suddenly notice all the signs and street names for the first time. Like I was becoming less… blind to things that have been right in front of my face my whole life. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like after a support group meeting? Because if it is, it’s working.

But I don’t want it to. I don’t want to face the music just yet. I don’t know what I’m afraid of, but I am afraid of something. I mean, who even am I when I’m just… sober all the time? I guess I wouldn’t know.

Suddenly, I remembered one of the things a guy at the meeting said – I think he called himself Doc. He was clearly a struggling alcoholic because he had mentioned relapsing several times. But he said some things that really stuck with me. Like the way he’s never had a stable relationship… _check_. Or the way he’s pushed everyone away… _check_. Or even the fact that deep down, he’s never let himself be happy, even with a bottle of whiskey in hand… _triple check_.

I’ve been happy before, though, haven’t I?

Come to think of it, I think the best way to describe it is… I’ve had happy _moments_ , but I don’t think I’ve had a happy _life_. Fuck. What was happening to me?

“You good?” Waverly questioned, a tone of concern in her voice as she parked the car outside the homestead, dragging me out of my thoughts.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, of course I am, baby girl,” I smiled bright; as bright and as genuinely as I could. “C’mon, let’s snuggle up and watch a movie. I’m in the mood for some flicks.”

As we got out of the car and Waverly had come around to face me, she squinted her eyes in suspicion and I felt so… exposed. Like she could see right through me. When really it was just my paranoia hoping to dear God that I seemed okay. Because I am. I am okay.

“Hmm, okay. No more movies with Jim Carrey, though.”

I am okay.

“I mean it,” she continued jokingly, pointing a finger at me.

Or… I will be. 

I will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you'd like to see. 
> 
> [ This is my twitter fan account ](https://www.twitter.com/wynsita_) if you'd like to message privately.


	2. Build It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna's mind starts to spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is kinda messy, both in flow of events as well as writing. But it's kind of the point of the chapter, because Wynonna's thoughts are also pretty messy. 
> 
> Also because I got sleepy but shush. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Sometimes, something so broken can never be fixed_ _  
So we saved a few things that were spared  
And brought it to the ground  
‘Cause you always build it better the second time around_

It’s been three days since my first meeting and I still haven’t spoken about it to Waverly. I keep telling her, you know, we’ll talk about it later. But neither of us know when that’ll be – when I’ll stop avoiding the inevitable.

I was sitting in the living room with Nicole – Waverly’s inseparable girlfriend – while Waverly was cooking something up in the kitchen. Probably a bunch of cooked plants she’d call a meal. It doesn’t bother me because I’ve ordered pizza so, I’m good on the food front. Can’t say the same for Nicole though; she’s trying to only eat vegan food when she’s around Waverly – which is all the time.

I felt the redhead’s eyes burning through my skin, so I turned to look at her and found that I was right.

“What?” I snapped.

“What?” She smiled.

“What’re you… all giddy about?”

“Nothing. I’m just proud of you.”

“For what? I haven’t done shit.” I pulled my knees up against my chest and pouted in disgust.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but… you went to your first meeting! And whether you continue or not,” Nicole pointedly shrugged, “it’s still a big leap. Plus, I’ve noticed you haven’t been drinking since then, either.”

I have been, though… but I guess I haven’t in front of them. Shit. Is it shame that’s at play here?

Nevertheless, I rolled my eyes and scoffed it off. “Take all the gay elsewhere. You have Waves for that.”

“Oh puh-lease, you love the gay,” Nicole ridiculed. “Speaking of which, Waverly tells me a… _Rosita_ was at AA with you?”

The fuck?

“What are you—what does she have to do with anything?” I retorted. “And it’s called Alcoholics _Anonymous_ for a reason, Nic.”

“Oh, _come on_! Sharing secrets with best friends doesn’t count.”

Hold up. Did she just casually announce us as best friends? I mean, don’t best friends need like… a contract or something? A meeting? A blood pact? Two halves of a broken heart that spell out our names or some shit? I guess I wouldn’t know.

Instead she just threw that term around like some _animal_.

But it still counts, right? If she’s said it… then… we’re best friends. Right?

“Nons…” she snapped me out of my thoughts. “You know we’re best friends, right? I mean, at least, you’re _my_ best friend.”

“Pfft… yeah. Of course I know that. You’re… mine…too,” I cleared my throat.

She squinted her eyes at me with the slightest smile across her lips before Waverly called out, “Babe, can you help me out in here?”

She huffed at me before turning around and going to the kitchen.

I needed a moment anyway. Because Nicole just called me her _best_ friend. And because what if they’re right? What if I _am_ an alcoholic? What if everything that Doc dude said about himself was precisely everything I am?

The thoughts immediately sprung a hunger within me for exactly the thing I’m expected to stay away from; that whiskey bottle I know I must’ve left lying under my bed. Or was it the bathroom? Or maybe the barn… honestly, I was too drunk to remember where I left it last.

And that’s exactly why I don’t deserve my sister’s support. I don’t deserve a best friend. I mean, if I push everyone away eventually, why even bother?

So, I stood up and I headed straight for my bedroom… And then the bathroom. And then the barn.

Fuck.

It must be in the kitchen with the rest of the drinks. _Stupid Waverly and her stupid OCD._

You know what? That’s fine. Imma head to Shorty’s.

I hopped onto my truck and made my way to the western bar. I’ll figure out another way home or I’ll sleep in my truck; I don’t really give a shit at this point.

Because something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right. I don’t feel… willing to face anything yet. And what better way to avoid your problems than to drink them away, amirite?

**_Later that night_ **

So… I was just kicked out of Shorty’s because of the drink limit or whatever the fuck. I don’t need this shit. I can just head to a liquor store! I am an adult… who can get her own shit. Pfft. And they say _I’m_ not responsible.

So, I get a bottle of whiskey, right, and it’s in those little plastic brown bags that just make you feel _dirty_. But that’s what I am! I’m cheap and… and dirty… and lifeless. What 27-year-old doesn’t have a job anyway? Fuck that.

Where was I? Right. _Fuck_ , this is a steep hill.

I don’t know what happened next, ‘cause one second I’m gulping down the bottle while clumsily shuffling down this hill, and the next, I’m sliding down said hill, my ass getting covered in mud.

“Hey, hey, are you oka—shit, Wynonna?”

I groaned and squinted my eyes at the female figure who looked to be rocking a high pony tail. Shit, is that Rosita?

“Haven’t seen you since high school and now you’re annoyingly everywhere I turn,” I huffed while attempting to stand up but failing incredibly.

“That’s because I haven’t been in Calgary since graduation,” she explained calmly while hovering over me and grabbing my arms. “Shit, Wynonna, how drunk are you?”

“Apparently not drunk enough,” I slurred, knowing I could still hear my dooming thoughts. I finally stood up, my body clumsily stumbling against Rosita’s, “Oh, hey there.”

Rosita sighed and gripped my waist as she led me to a bench at the very bottom of the hill facing a lake. “C’mere, let’s sober you up.”

“Oh, look at you, being all high and mighty,” I grunted. “We get it. You’re sober.”

She ignored me and sat me down. But something in me needed attention.

“What? T-too… better than me to even answer?” I scoffed.

_Someone please stop me._

“No, Wynonna,” she said softly and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “You’re just too drunk and you’re gonna say things you don’t mean and that’s okay. We’ll get you sober and then we can talk.”

_Stop me._

“Why should I listen to you? I don’t even know you. You’re no one. Three years of sobriety and you think you know your shit?”

She didn’t say anything. But she held me closer, wrapping both arms around me and cradling my head.

“You’re not better than me,” I told her, both my fists glued together between our bodies.

“I know. No one’s better than anyone here.”

“You’re not, you’re not, you’re not better than me!” I repeated.

“I know,” she repeated back. “I’m not.”

“You’re not!” I screamed into her chest.

“I know,” she brushed her fingers through my hair and that’s when I just fuckin’ lost it.

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not lying, Wynonna.”

“But you are,” I felt my muscles relax into her embrace and tears run down my cheeks for the first time in a very long time. “…You are better than me.”

“Hey, hey, no,” she desperately brought my face into view and pushed the hairs out of my face. “I’m no better than you the same way Nutella’s no better than… I don’t know, Oreos! They’re both great. They’re both strong. They both have all the potential in the world.”

I sniffled and stared silently at the younger girl. I couldn’t understand why she was being so nice to me when I’ve done nothing but harm her, even in high school.

“But…” I licked my lips and furrowed my brows seriously. “Nutella kinda is better than Oreos.”

The worried expression on her face was quickly washed with irritation, her eyes rolled so far back behind her head I could swear for a second all I could see was white. “Jesus, Wynonna.”

I laughed and she hid the smallest smile that attempted to spread across her lips.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked seriously.

“What? You think Imma just leave you to rot in the mud? No. It doesn’t mean we’re friends though.” She said, despite the smile that grew on her face.

I swallowed hard and looked at her up and down in observation. She was in a simple plain tank covered with a grey zipper-hoodie. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“In Calgary or by the lake down the scary, steep forest?”

“Um, both, I guess.”

“Well, I’m down by the lake because it’s my thinking spot. No one ever comes here. And Calgary, well… that’s a story for another time,” she said, dropping her arms from my hold.

“Because I’m drunk or because we’re _not friends_?” I squinted at her.

“Hmm,” she scrunched her lips to the side in contemplation. “Definitely both, yeah, yep.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed, “fuck off.”

“Do you even _wanna_ be friends?”

“No,” I scoffed.

“Then we’re not friends.”

“So, if I said yes, you would’ve gone along with it?”

“Mmm… nah. You ain’t friend material,” she joked but it still stung.

“You think I don’t know that?” I scowled and immediately stood up – sloppily, at that.

“What? Wynonna, no, I—”

“Look,” I sighed and turned around to face her as she stood up from the bench. “Thanks for all this but you don’t have to keep… acting like you _know_ me. You don’t. You may think we’re the same because you’re an alcoholic or whatever, but I’m not one. I have bad days, sure, but that doesn’t mean shit. I’m just a shit person. That’s who I am. And you know it too, right? I’m your bully, right? And I-I don’t deserve friends or-or _best_ friends or even my stupidly loving sister who just never stops goddamn _caring_ and—fuck.”

I’ve said too much.

I huffed and stomped uphill to get back onto the road.

“Wynonna, stop,” Rosita called out and grabbed my arm.

“No, you stop, Rosita! What do you want from me?”

“Wynonna… how are you even gonna get back?”

“I have a car, you know.”

“Oh, no, no, no you’re not. You’re not driving,” she said with a chuckle like it was unbelievable to even consider. I may be drunk but I’m not that drunk. I think. “Are you fucking crazy? Stop!”

“Yeah, I’m fucking crazy, don’t you get it?” I said calmly, ignoring the younger girl and walking up the steep forest. “Plus, Waverly’s been buzzing on my phone for hours and guess what? I just remembered I ordered pizza so there’s a silver lining to all this.”

“I’m not telling you not to go home,” Rosita caught up with me.

“Jesus, how fit _are_ you?” I sneered.

“I’m telling you not to _drive_ home,” she continued. “Please, Wynonna, please let me drive you.”

“Oh my gaaaahd, just stop following me, Rosita,” I groaned, finally reaching the road.

“ _Anything_ but driving drunk,” she said sternly, stomping her foot down and grabbing my arm firmly one last time.

Shit, I poked the bear.

She wrapped her arms around me and I had no idea what was going on but I was freaking out on the inside. Everything was fuzzy and this… angry little meerkat was rummaging through my pockets.

Finally, she pulled out my car keys.

“Hey!” I yelled once I realized what the fuck was going on.

“Look,” she gave me another stern look and I could swear she was trying to impregnate me. Or maybe I _am_ just super drunk. “You don’t want me around? Cool. I couldn’t care less. So, I’ll call you a lift instead, alright? You’ll get your keys back tomorrow when you’re sober. You know where to find me.”

She tapped on her phone – I’m assuming she’s calling the Lift – and then smugly smiled at me once she was done.

“I-I actually don’t, though,” I said as she walked away, causing her to look back once more. “Where to find you, I mean.”

“Yeah, you do,” she sighed and shoved the keys down the pockets of her tight and light blue jeans, before turning back around and walking away.

“Well what’s the—car? Fuck.” I half-yelled before realizing she was getting out of earshot.

 _“Ooooh, well you actually do, na-na-na,”_ I mimicked under my breath mockingly, slightly sticking out my tongue. “ _Well you can actually fuck off.”_

Thinks Imma listen to her? I can just walk home. Fuck this bullshit.

“Wynonna?” A car slowed down beside me as I walked down the road.

Shit, that was fast. 21st century, huh?

“I was left a note to pick up a drunk lady by the side of this road. Named Wynonna,” the woman said smugly.

“Well that was super dumb,” I retorted. “That’s just an invitation to take advantage of a drunk lady! But also—I’m not drunk…” I said with an accusing pointed finger.

The driver laughed and said, “nah, Rosita trusts me. You can trust me too. I am a Lift driver but I am also… somewhat of a confidant of hers. She actually texted me but I was told not to mention that.”

Jesus, Rosita just called up a personal driver for me?

“Fuck it, fine,” I groaned and sat in the backseat. “So, how do you know Rosita?”

“Ways,” the woman said coldly as she continued to drive.

Damn, what on earth is Rosita’s deal? I practically _craved_ to figure her out.

But my head was throbbing and I could swear I saw two of everything. And where the fuck did my whiskey bottle go? I paid a good… nine dollars for that. _Ugh_.

I sunk into the leather of the car and decided to save the interrogating for when I get my keys back. I closed my eyes for just a moment and felt the world spinning around me. Thoughts were thrown around in my pacing mind; voices every direction I took. Waverly’s concern, Nicole’s sudden declaration of best-friendship, Rosita’s fucking Nutella talk… Doc’s words. Stop it. Stop it. Get out of my head, goddamn it!

I opened my eyes as the car stopped by the homestead.

“Fuck, finally,” I voiced out, rummaging through my pockets for some change.

“It’s covered,” the driver said casually.

“Um, okay. Thanks,” I furrowed my brows in suspicion.

I then left the car and cautiously walked into the homestead where I was basically attacked by Waverly and Nicole.

“Jesus, where the fuck were you?” Waverly angrily shouted at me, Nicole behind her placing her palm against her face.

“You scared us,” Nicole sighed a sigh of relief.

“Why? Since when does it matter—”

“Since when do you not matter, Wyn? You just left a cold pizza – which Nicole paid for by the way – and is so unlike you, and you disappeared and weren’t answering and you’ve been weird all day and—” she paused mid-rant. “You smell like alcohol.”

“Yeah, okay, so I went to get a drink. So what?” I inhaled deeply and took off my leather jacket as I walked around the two girls.

“So… you’re supposed to be sobering up,” Waverly stated matter-of-factly.

“I never promised that,” I responded a little too quickly, before collapsing down on the couch.

I took a deep breath just _knowing_ that both of them were staring at me in disappointment. I’m done feeling like a failure. I know I am.

I started to feel a fire burning through my chest and my hands started to twitch. I could swear anything could’ve made me tick right then and there. Which it did.

“Wynonna, you—”

I couldn’t even humor myself for a _second_.

I felt something take me over as my fingers wrapped around whatever glass cup was left on the coffee table and threw it right past Waverly.

_Sweet little Waverly._

“Waverly, I swear to God!” I yelled as the cup flew right past her head.

Suddenly, the silence of the room felt sickening. My baby sister looked at me like she never had before. If I thought it was disappointment before, I wouldn’t know what to call _this_.

Disgust? Repulsion? She looked at me like I was a fucking stranger.

“Fuck… I-I’m sorry, Waves…” I breathed out, a look of horror plastered across my face.

“I…” Waverly started before sighing and dropping her arms to her sides. It was as if she just gave up all hope in me. I felt it.

She walked off and went up the stairs, leaving me standing there with Nicole who had her arms crossed, but a look of sympathy on her face.

“Not cool, Wyn,” she said lowly. “But it’s fine. Give her some time. And you should rest. I’m glad you’re okay.”

She smiled sympathetically at me before approaching me and giving me a hesitant but genuine hug.

My arms remained at my sides.

“And…” she added, letting go of the hug. “Consider going to another meeting tomorrow. You’ve got a fury building up in you and you gotta let it out. Just… not at Waves, you know?”

“Yeah… yeah,” I nodded and cleared my throat, looking down at my feet in shame. “Go. Go check on her. I’ll be fine, I’m just gonna… think for a bit. I want to be alone.”

“Alright. Call or text if you need anything,” Nicole smiled and patted my shoulder before following Waverly’s trail up the stairs.

I clenched my jaw and wrapped my hands around my face as I sat back down on the couch.

Who the fuck even was I anymore? What was that? It felt… dare I say… _crazy_? It was like another person took control of me entirely.

If I can take anything from this, it’d be that it’s a wake-up call.

I’ve got to get my shit together. If not for me, then for Waverly.

For Nicole.

**_The next day_ **

I shuffled my boot-covered feet against the marble tile floor, watching the way my bent knees met and separated over and over and over again.

I knew my turn was soon. And I could feel Rosita’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t look up. Not yet.

Finally, I felt that deafening silence and knew it was time. So, I spoke up.

With my head tilted down at my knees, I said, “Hi, my name is Wynonna.”

I then cleared my throat, looked up, and let my eyes meet Rosita’s.

“And I’m an alcoholic.”

I took a deep breath as I watched a proud smile tug at the corners of Rosita’s lips before she, along with everyone else, said in unison, “Hi Wynonna.”

I swear I’ll do better.

I’ll do better this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lotta plot holes in this one... all will be cleared next chapter, I promise!
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you'd like to see. 
> 
> [ This is my twitter fan account ](https://www.twitter.com/schwiftyWaves) if you'd like to message privately.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna attends her second meeting and works on strengthening her relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late!! But I made this chapter SUPER long -- over 5000 words!
> 
> Some of this is based on my own experiences so i hope it makes sense haha
> 
> As always, thanks to Sonny for being my wynsita ~queen~
> 
> Enjoy. x

_Indeed, it's wrong to keep you near me_ _  
One could call me cruel and deceiving  
But in your sacred air I am full of light  
Your loving arms are the true delight  
To which I'm lost_

I’ve never heard the heaving of my lungs so loud before. I chipped away at the nail of my thumb between my teeth, my other hand gripping the fabric of my jeans. My feet were propped up on the chair, my knees to my chest, my eyes glued to the man who spoke with words dripped in sorrow.

Doc was the main speaker of today’s meeting and he told a story of a moment that has been haunting him every day since. It was… softer than I expected from a man like him.

“I met Xavier Dolls in high school. I was a senior and he was just in the ninth grade when he decided to follow me around outside of school. Becoming friends didn’t take too long; it was ’92 and the fifth Dragon Quest release came out on Nintendo – which he turned out to be a big fan of…” Doc ended the sentence with a small chuckle like he had just remembered something. But I think he decided to keep it to himself.

“Anyway, so, uh, we were thick as thieves. We watched each other grow up and… he looked up to me. We… we were more than just best friends. And I don’t know how dumb he had to have been to look up to me, because I was a fuckin’ mess. But he did anyway. And he _showed_ it – he expressed it all the time in more ways than one, whereas I…” He inhaled deeply, held his breath in, and combed his beard with his fingers before letting it out. All the while my own fingers dug deeper into the shin of my leg with every word in anticipation.

“I took advantage of that, I think. Everyone left me. Everyone gave up on me. But Dolls? Never. I got used to it and kinda assumed he never would. And I fucking hate that I wasn’t expressive as he was with me, because he might’ve looked up to me for God knows what reasons, when really, he was _my_ only inspiration. He still is. But… he ended up giving up on me, too.” Doc rolled his tongue between his lips and looked down at the ground.

“You see, I’ve experienced a lot. I’ve experienced my father literally strangling me in my sleep at 2 in the morning – more times than once, believe it or not – even as a teenager. I’ve experienced the loss of my mother. I’ve experienced the loss of many loved ones at a time when they had given up on me too and passed before I could get their love back. I’ve been near death and I’ve caused much destruction. But I always felt… numb to it most of it. Though, as small as it may sound in comparison, nothing in my life could ever amount to the way I felt when Dolls looked me dead in the eye with such disgrace and disgust, and said ‘ _Doc… you’re a hopeless fucking case._ ’”

His words hit my ears like the sharpest of daggers. Even just imagining that happening with Waverly… and it almost did, too. She did look at me in disgust. I don’t know if she gave up on me in that moment but it sure felt like she was going to. I don’t ever want to take advantage of her never-ending support. I don’t want to reach a moment in time when I look back wishing I listened to her – wishing I did more to make her proud of me.

“If you think that was my wakeup call – it wasn’t. If anything, it made me give up on myself too. He slammed the doors to my Paris hotel room shut and left like I meant absolutely nothing. But really, you couldn’t blame him. Not for the shit I pulled. But that’s another story for another day,” he sighed. “…Sometimes, I could swear I can still remember the hatred in his voice, the loudness of that door slamming and the sounds of the guests in the next room complaining… it was 5 years ago. But I remember it like it happened yesterday. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

He continued to explain things he felt towards friendships and relationships; the way he pushed so many loved ones away, the way he missed out on things because he was always too drunk, too fucked up, too depressed. And listening to his words, I see the purpose of these meetings. I always thought they were pointless. Even seeing them on TV, it didn’t hit the same. Now that I’m here for myself, I see it, I do. Every word sounds heavier than usual. They seep into my skin like never before and they’re given new meanings for me. A cloud would form in my mind of just connecting so many dots in my life that never really made sense before.

“Thank you for sharing today, Henry,” Randy smiled. “You’re brave and you’re always supported here, no matter what.” He looked around and continued, “who would like to share next?”

So, from what I understood, the way this was working was that one person is a main speaker and takes up most of the time, while others briefly share afterwards. That way, every meeting, someone gets their chance to share their story while everyone else can listen and learn from them.

A few more people thanked Doc and shared their own relation to his story, most under about five minutes. It was all mostly in the theme of a memory that follows them around and one woman briefly shared her thoughts on a memory of being a medic in the war. I felt my heart swell.

Rosita cleared her throat and spoke up, “Thank you, Doc. It’s always great to hear stories that we can relate to in our own ways. But I’m sorry for what you went through. So, um, I’d definitely say that the moment that haunts me every day and night is…” her voice cracked just before bringing it up, before she chuckled and continued, “sometimes it’s still hard to even say.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Rosita,” Randy said reassuringly. “I know it’s hard to remember.”

“The more I say it, the more real it gets which is what I need to move forward from it. It’s just… it’s when Doc said how it wasn’t his wakeup call and that he only spiraled downwards after it, I mean, I _felt_ that. Senior year of high school. Some of you already know of this, but, uh, I got drunk during a science event at night that my parents came to support me for. I got into a huge fight with them that night and I blamed my behavior on my father - who was also drunk at the time. I refused to go home with them. You know how the story goes; I was an angsty teenager, told them I hated them, that whole shabang. That night, my father drove my mother home and... that was the last time I ever saw them alive." She nibbled on the inside of her cheek as she stared at the ground in contemplation. "I-I know forgiving myself is a very important step, but I don’t think I’ve gotten there just yet. I don’t know if I will. And I just hate that they’re not here to see me now. I hate being better without them seeing it. I know I shouldn’t let that get to me, but it does. I really wish they could see me now and maybe that way it’d be easier to forgive myself and I _really fucking wish_ I believed in God so I could believe they’re looking down at me and maybe I’d be able to forgive myself. But I guess that’s my next challenge and—I’m sorry, yeah, that’s it for now,” her voice cracked again. “Thanks again, Doc. You gave me a lot to think about,” she ended seriously.

How did I never know about this? She was in Waverly’s grade. Shouldn’t I have heard about this? I know I wasn’t close to her, but I definitely would’ve at least… gone to a memorial or… gave her my wishes or… wouldn’t I have?

And now I feel like utter shit for the other night. I insisted on driving drunk when even normally, I’d never even consider it. But sometimes it just takes me over when I’m like that and it just had to happen in front of Rosita. God damn it.

I really hoped that the sympathy I felt wasn’t too visible on my face because I didn’t want her to feel _pity_. I know that’s the worst feeling. So, I nodded as she spoke and I smiled proudly at her when she finished. Because I’ve felt this _knocking_ in my brain since the moment I introduced myself just wondering if I should speak today or if I even had the guts to or not. And I don’t. Not yet. And Rosita is courageous as fuck for talking about it the way she did. So are all of these people. I’m just not there yet. Every second I consider it I feel a knot in my throat and I don’t think I can face it just yet.

So, I decided not to. The meeting ended with the same prayer and this time, I joined. I was hesitant, but I joined.

_God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference._

It didn’t even matter whether you were religious or not. But joining in this prayer felt like progress. It felt like I was a part of all of this.

I was by the snack tables pouring myself a plastic cup of black coffee when I noticed Doc from the corner of my eye.

“Hey,” I said hesitantly, swallowing hard.

“Hey there, newbie,” he grinned charmingly. “How’s this been treating you?”

“It’s only my second meeting but man… this shit fucking hits. And um,” I pondered, remembering how everyone thanked him for speaking and thought maybe that was something I should say? “Thanks for your story. It was… effective, to say the least.”

“Yeah,” he said softly and sighed before grabbing a tart. “The best part about all of this is that your misery helps other people cope, apparently.”

I laughed and sipped on my cup; feeling speechless and nervous was not a usual thing for me. I just still didn’t feel like I fit in just yet. Somehow, Doc knew that I felt that way.

“Listen, I know it’s overwhelming. I only call you newbie for laughs, but you are in this just as much as any of us. Whether it be your first day, your second, or your hundredth; we’re all in the same boat.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I smiled. “So… if I may ask, are you planning on ever reaching out to your friend?”

“Dolls? Yeah, if I ever manage to stay sober for more than six months, sure,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t feel fully proud of myself unless the man whose opinion matters the most to me could be proud of me too. I know it’s wrong to depend on that, and I don’t, but it would help a whole lot. Dolls just… he’s different. I would do anything to have him back in my life.”

Every time he said his name there was pain in his eyes, but there was also a hint of _pride_. Like he was happy to talk about him – proud to have known him.

He cleared his throat and continued, “But yeah. Great job on attending today and I hope to see more of you here. I’ll catch you later. It was nice to meet you.”

I nodded and smiled before he walked off. That’s when I decided to catch up with Rosita before she left. I looked around and couldn’t find her, so I went outside in hopes that she was there like the last time.

And I was right. But she wasn’t smoking this time, just leaning against the brick wall. Her bare legs in her jean shorts shone under the summer sun, one leg bent against the wall.

“Hey, Wynonna!”

“Rosita!”

We both said at the same time and laughed. “Listen, so—” I started.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about what I said—” she said simultaneously and laughed again.

“You go first,” I chuckled.

She smiled shyly and pushed her hair behind her ear, looking down at her feet. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what I said the other day. About you not being friend-material – it was a _bad_ joke and I should’ve known better.”

“Oh man, I wasn’t myself and… I’m the one who’s super sorry for putting you through all of that. And thank you… for everything.”

“It’s all good. Oh, and here are your keys,” she smiled and handed them to me and somehow, her bringing it with her was like an unspoken sentiment that she knew I had it in me to attend today.

“Thanks,” I breathed shakily and took the keys.

“So, what did you wanna tell me?”

I thought of asking her about her parents, but that was probably a bad idea for now so I opted to ask her something else instead.

“Um, I was… y’know, wondering if um…” I took a deep breath in.

She looked at me attentively, her eyes just slightly squinted, and the smallest smirk on her face in anticipation. “You’re scarin’ me here, Earp.”

“Sorry, it’s just, I-I—,” fuck, why was I such a mess around her? “I wanted to maybe take you up on Nedley’s suggestion and ask if maybe… you could be my sponsor? Only if you’re cool with it. I mean, you were like, inspiring… or whatever… talking today. And—yeah.”

I took a deep breath like I was talking forever and finally noticed the biggest smile on the younger girl.

“Fuck, I—” she chuckled breathily and looked to the side in shock before looking back at me. “I’d love nothing more than to be your sponsor, Wyn.”

Nothing could’ve stopped the way the corners of my lips curved up into a smile that almost ripped my face in two.

“You should know, though, I’ve never been a sponsor, so it’ll be a first experience for the both of us,” she said. “But I’d love to be there to support you whenever you need it.”

“Yeah it’d be cool to hang out with you, anyway,” and fuck, did I just say that? “A-and maybe catch up on who the fuck that mysterious driver that picked me up was.” I cleared my throat.

“I will… take you up on that,” she dragged her lower lip between her teeth and I could swear I saw the universe in her eyes for a second. I also think she was standing a few inches closer to me than she was before because suddenly, I could breathe a lot less.

“I—”

“There you are,” a woman called to Rosita as she walked up behind her and placed her palm on her shoulder.

“Hey, you found me!” Rosita said to the girl excitedly, turning around and hugging her.

“Yup, I could spot that ass from a mile away,” the woman joked. 

“Uh, Wynonna, this is my…” she paused, “this is Kate. Kate, this is Wynonna.”

I examined the woman in question; tall, dark skinned, dark high-waisted jeans, a tucked in blouse, and accessories for days. The fact she was drop-dead gorgeous did not help the stab I felt in my heart for whatever reason, either.

“Hey Wynonna,” she smiled. “We’re gonna go and get some lunch if you’d like to join us.”

Rosita turned to look at me expectantly with a sparkle of hope in her eyes.

“I um, I would, but I’d really like to see my sister. I gotta talk to her,” I told Kate before turning to Rosita and smiling, “and anyway, you oughtta save some of that mystery for later.”

She grinned, “Alright, well listen, take my number and text me later. We can discuss this more.”

I don’t know why but I almost choked at the idea of texting with _Rosita_ out of all people.

“Right, yeah,” I cleared my throat and handed my phone to her, watching her slim fingers as they tapped away on it.

She handed it back and I felt a grin creep on my face as I read the contact name. It was nothing special –not yet, at least – but it still made my heart skip a beat; _Rosie <3_.

I looked up and saw her lips scrunched to the side, a smile in her eyes, and her hands held behind her back.

“Anyway so, yeah, Imma… walk home and I’ll text ya,” I coughed out before looking at Kate. “It was nice to meet you. Maybe we can hang out some more another time.”

“You got it,” she winked. “Let me know if you do end up unlocking the mystery that is Rosita Bustillos.”

“Right back atchya,” I laughed then popped my lips and turned around on the heel of my foot before walking home.

Waverly didn’t drop me because she still doesn’t know I was going to this meeting. I didn’t want to tell her or get her hopes up in case I couldn’t do it. But now that I have and now that I know I’m taking this more seriously than I ever thought I would, I’ll make it my goal to never let her down.

Speaking of which, Doc’s story was still fresh on my mind. I pulled my phone out as I walked home and texted Waverly just to let her know to expect me soon.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: hey, sis. i’ll be home in a few. till then, i just want you to know that i love you and i don’t ever want to let you down. i’m so lucky to have you as my sister. see you soon x_

I pulled on my lower lip with my teeth as I noticed Rosita’s name again, my thumb hesitantly hovering over it. _Fuck it._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: idk why i chose to walk today. worst decision of my life._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: it’s wyn btw._

It was okay to just chat, right? It didn’t have to be strictly sponsor-related, right?

I stared at the screen as I walked and this was the first time I ever anxiously waited for a text. I never really understood all those memes and tweets regarding texts because I was never much of a texter. Or maybe it was never with the right person.

I almost dropped my phone when I felt it buzz and immediately looked at the notification.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: dedication at its finest. Proud of you x_

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: stop that_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: stop what?_

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: being… idk. all soft and shit._

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: sorry_ _¯\\_( ͡_ _❛_ _͜_ _ʖ ͡_ _❛_ _)_/_ _¯_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: was my contact name too soft for you too?_

Why was I smiling so hard at the sole fact that I was texting Rosita Bustillos? I paused and hesitated before responding.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: just soft enough._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: but don’t tell anyone i ever said that._

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: too bad i already changed your name oop_

With her text came a screenshot of my contact in her phone named ‘ _Softie_ ’ with a pouting emoji.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: you know i can easily just change your name if i wanted to, right?_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: do you tho?_

I paused again. She really was bringing out the softie in me somehow.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: no._

I shoved my phone back into my pocket despite feeling it vibrate again once I reached the homestead and saw Waverly sitting by the porch outside.

“Wynonna,” Waverly started.

Without a word, I walked up the few steps of the porch and pulled Waverly into a hug.

“Wh—” she bluescreened but wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug anyway. She chuckled and pulled away, “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed before gripping her shoulders and saying, “I’m sorry for last night, Waves. I don’t know what came over me but either way, I’m not just apologizing this time. I’m doing. I just got back from my second meeting.”

“Wyn, are you serious?” She beamed. She laughed joyfully and pulled me into a second hug, “I’m so happy for you.”

“Do you hate me, though? ‘Cause I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But I swear I’m doing this for myself too and I promise to try my best not to fuck it up and—”

“Wynonna,” she interrupted. “I could never hate you. Yes, yesterday was a bit scary and yeah it hurt. But I also know that it wasn’t the time for me to get upset because I know you weren’t being yourself and I should’ve put my feelings aside for a moment and yelled at you after,” she chuckled towards the end.

“Waves, no, no—”

“I want the best for you, Wyn. That’s all I want,” she watched me as I cringed at the affection. “And yeah, get over all this love I’m sending your way because you make me proud and you better get used to it eventually.”

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly and fidgeted with my thumb as I fought the smile that grew on my face.

“Just, like, don’t give up on me,” I said softly. “I don’t know how difficult I might get in the process, but I know one thing for sure is that I don’t ever want to let you down.”

“First of all, you know I never would. Secondly, yeah, by the way, that text freaked me out. I thought you were about to sacrifice yourself to a cult or something.”

“If I were to ever be in a cult, I think we both know I’d be the leader,” I squinted my eyes at her.

“Good point,” she popped her lips and we both chuckled and everything felt like it was getting back to normal. “Wanna tell me how it went?”

I took a deep breath in and out. “Yeah. Yeah, this time I do.”

She grinned proudly and we walked inside, sat in the living room, and I told her everything. I told her how everything happened in detail, I told her how Doc’s story made me feel, and I told her about Rosita becoming my sponsor.

“Speaking of which,” I said. “Did you know about Rosita’s parents?”

“You mean the…?” She questioned and I nodded. “Of course I did,” she shrugged absently. “I went to the funeral and memorial.”

“Jeez, where the fuck was I?”

There was a moment of silence like Waverly was contemplating how to say what she was about to say without sounding too hurtful.

“Well, you… I mean, I was a senior and you weren’t— I mean, that was the year you took that gap year and went to Greece.”

Right. The hesitance in her voice whenever that was brought up was not because of the fact I went to Greece for a year but the fact that I completely ghosted her and didn’t even attend her graduation.

I wanted to. I really wanted to. But for one, I didn’t think I was wanted that much, and second, I wasn’t really in the place emotionally to come back. I planned to, but… I used any excuse to stop me from going back.

“Yeah, right. I’m sorry about that too.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Wyn,” Waverly said reassuringly. “You wanted space and that’s fine. The ghosting thing, well, from here on out I want you to know that I forgive you for everything because I know you weren’t yourself at times. So you can stop apologizing. Please. We’re good. And I’m so glad you’re starting this new page. Everything’s behind us, alright?”

“Okay,” I smiled.

“So, who the fuck is Kate?” Waverly changed the subject, her voice dripped in intrigue.

I shrugged. “I don’t know but she seems nice. Where’s Haught?”

“She went to work. She’d be super excited to hear about this, though.”

She sighed and sat up straight, “Speaking of which I do gotta work on some stuff, too. I took a day off today, but I gotta send some emails. I’ll finish up and come back if you’re still here by then.”

“Yeah, alright, you busy woman you,” I quirked an eyebrow and waved a pointed finger before I sunk myself into the couch as she walked off.

My mind wandered to the thought of Nicole and I couldn’t help but feel myself smile. If I’m her best friend then I really have to keep her close. I don’t want to lose her either. I don’t want her to think I’m a _hopeless case_ either. Not that she has it in her to think that of really anybody.

I pulled my phone out and first saw the notification I missed from Rosita.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: !!! not so rough around the edges with me anymore, i see_

I chuckled to myself.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: don’t get too excited, now…_

A response came immediately.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: that took awhile. how’d it go with waverly?_

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: it was really good. she says hi!_

I only paused the drift of the conversation to navigate my way to Nicole’s number. I tapped the ‘message’ button and typed away.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: hey there haught. i took your advice and i am officially half a day sober :D just got back from my meeting and had a heart-to-heart with waves._

 **_Haughtstuff_ ** _: WYNONNA!!!!! You have no idea how big I just smiled. Been having a bad day over here and you just made it._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: a kid being a bad apple, eh?_

 **_Haughtstuff_ ** _: It’s never the kids. It’s always the system that gets me. The kids are great._

 **_Haughtstuff_ ** _: Tell me how it went! Or you know what, imma get off work later and maybe I’ll come by so I can get all the deets. So glad you texted me though._

Haught is a social worker and it’s always been inspiring to me how passionate she was about her work. But man, do I really suck at texting that much that it made her so happy that I texted her at all?

I gotta get better at this whole best friend thing. And I will. So… I sent Haught a heart in response. Eek.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: tell her i say hi back. how do you feel?_

Was it normal how I felt my heart jump every time I saw her name pop up?

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: well!!! it’s been a big day and i’m just… supposed to NOT drink about it right??_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: wynonna…_

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: i swear i’m kidding. don’t get your panties in a twist_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: you’d like that wouldn’t you_

A thousand alerts were roaring through my brain. Shit, shit, shit. Was she legit flirting with me?

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: damn take me out on a date first why don’t ya_

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: speaking of which. how’s kate_ _😊_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: we’re not on a date._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: what, is kate not your gf?_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: what, you jelly?_

I paused. Just before I was about to respond, Rosita sent another text.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: but no she is not my gf_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: i mean not exactly_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: i mean it’s casual_

Fuck it.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: so………..that’s a no on taking me out on a date then, huh_

I hoped she knew it was a joke. Another part of me hoped she didn’t and maybe, just _maybe_ , responded seriously.

She sent a few laughing emojis before sending an actual response.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: unfortunately dating your sponsor is a big no-no_

Wait, what? I mean… I don’t care, but… what? I didn’t respond and navigated to my browser to google it. Just then, Rosita sent another text and answered for me.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: for real tho, as your sponsor and whatnot, i should also make sure… you know you’re not supposed to date for like a year, right? half a year at least, though still not advised._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: relax i’m just messin with you_

Pfft.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: but no i did not know that_

I guess the sponsor thing made sense. I mean, who do you go to when you’re having relationship issues with your sponsor, right? In the long-run, I mean. Short term, I’m apparently not supposed to date at all!

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: yeah. i mean it’s not set in stone or anything, but it’s strongly recommended not to. brings up a shitton of unnecessarily added stress to recovery._

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: i haven’t been in a real relationship in years so i think i’m good on that front_

But how come it bothered me now? There was a voice at the back of my mind saying, “ _you asshat, you know it’s because she makes your stomach churn and your heart flutter and her laugh makes you wanna fucking vomit rainbows and you know a year’s a long time to be feeling that way,_ ” and man, I hated how I could just shut those voices down. Because deep down, I knew what they were saying. But I did not want to listen. Especially after learning that new fact Rosita just told me.

She didn’t respond immediately this time. I stared at the screen as I watched those three little dots at the bottom of the screen, but then… nothing.

“I swear, my supervisor is a fucking dickface,” Waverly groaned, coming back into the living room with her laptop in hand.

She sighed and sat beside me, gently placing the open laptop onto the coffee table.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing new. It’s just even though I’m not an intern anymore, I’m still treated as one,” she pulled on the sleeves of her top and turned to me. “I just can’t wait to get far enough with this job to finally get offered a better one. I’m hoping for an environmental firm.”

“You’re acing it, Waves. Seriously, you’re a super hard worker, so I know you’ll get to be exactly where you want to be,” I reassured her. Just then, I felt my phone buzz and I could swear I almost choked on nothing. I pulled my phone out, desperately hoping for the notification to be from Rosita, and it was. And then came another one. And another one.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: wanna hang out tomorrow night?_

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: you could unravel that mystery (that really isn’t a mystery at all) and i could poke around in your head some more._

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: only if you’re up for it._

I really shouldn’t have been as excited as I was.

 **_Wynonna_ ** _: i’m up for it._

Yeah, Rosita was not going to be making this easy at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeeaaaah so this is gonna be a total slow burn. it'll be worth it tho.


	4. Cherry Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna goes to Rosita's place and they get to know each other a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi fellow wynsita shippers! 
> 
> This chapter is fully wynsita from start to finish. It's simple and light and I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Enjoy x

_You know that feelin' when you think your heart  
Is gonna come right out through your shirt?_  
Get it a couple times a year  
 _But I've been gettin' it more often with her_

It was the next day and Rosita invited me over to her house, figuring that it’d be best to hang out alone considering the depth of our topics. I took a deep breath in and out, staring at the considerably larger-than-expected house across the street from where I stood. Who knew Rosita was packin’?

I pulled out my phone and looked at the time; 6:58 PM. I’m still two minutes early and figured I’d wait a few more minutes.

Suddenly, I got a notification from Rosita on my phone.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: just come in you doofus_

Shit. I looked over towards the porch and across all the several windows to try and see where she was watching from.

 **_Rosie <3_ ** _: there are cameras lining the house i’m not actively stalking you_

I visibly laughed as I read the message, shoved my phone back into my jeans’ back pocket, and finally walked towards the house. Before I could knock, the door swung open and revealed Rosita in black jean shorts and a white tucked in tank top or one-piece.

“Watching me through your cameras still counts as stalking, you know,” I lightheartedly cocked a brow at her.

She rolled her eyes with a smile, “the displays were up on my monitors either way. But I just really wanted to wait and see how long it’d take you to move already – had no idea I could make _the_ Wynonna Earp nervous.”

“Pfft, I’m not nervous,” I tried to sound convincing. “Just wanted to be… considerate of your time.”

“Right,” she sarcastically nodded along, chuckled, and welcomed me in.

I walked through the foyer and looked around the first floor with my eyes, the sunlight filling the room, the modern design lined with a greyish-white color scheme. It was modern, but it was also homey somehow. I had a feeling it wasn’t at one point, but Rosita had put her own touches on it to make it more welcoming.

It smelled like her too. I shut my eyes as I inhaled through my nose, letting the smell of cherry blossoms and cigarettes take me over.

“Beautiful home,” I said, slipping my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “What’re you, a doctor or something?”

“Biochemist,” she said casually. “Well, not yet. And anyway, this is my parents’ home. Was.”

“Oh,” I tried to nod casually, keeping it light. “Right.”

She stood in front of me and I felt my heart in my throat as I looked down at her, watching her hands move towards the direction of my shoulders. Time stopped for a split second that felt like an eternity. What was happening?

“May I? If you want me to hang your jacket somewhere or…” she gestured to my leather jacket with her eyes.

“Oh,” I felt all the air I held in my chest escape my throat. “Right, yeah, sure,” I cleared my throat and peeled my jacket off, all the while Rosita still stood only inches away from me, her hands hovering around me waiting to take the jacket off my hands.

“You can ask about it, by the way,” she said, with my jacket now in her arms, as she moved towards a closet in the foyer that had hangers lined on the inside of the closet doors.

I looked at her in confusion and she chuckled lightly, “my parents. I noticed the way you’ve been scared to bring it up since last meeting. Which is adorable and all, but I’m fine with talking about it just so you know.”

“I-it—I—uh,” I stammered because Rosita just called me _adorable_.

She fucking laughed at me because apparently my inability to speak around her is amusing to her.

“C’mon,” she said softly and nodded her head towards the couch. “Do you want anything to drink? Water, soda, juice?”

“Got any beer?” I joked. Badly.

“I see dark humor is still your thing,” she lightheartedly shook her head.

“Water’s fine,” I quickly cleared my throat. I sat down on the couch as Rosita got a glass of water, walked to the couch and sat next to me. “So… what happened that year? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to… you know.”

“That’s okay,” she smiled with her eyes and had her body turned to me, her arm lying on the back of the couch. “I wasn’t there to… ‘you know’… when your dad passed, either.”

“You didn’t know me then.”

“You didn’t exactly know me either – not really,” she shrugged.

“I still can’t believe I was such an ass to you, though,” I groaned and covered my face with the palms of my hands. “Are you sure you’re not here just to get back at me?” I teasingly eyed her with suspicion.

“Shit, you caught me,” she threw her hands up in defense before returning to her normal tone of voice. “I don’t hold hate in my heart towards anyone anymore, Wyn.”

“That’s… impressive,” I observed. “But, so, you admit at one point you did hate me?”

“I…” She started before dropping her hand down with her other to her lap and stared at her fidgeting fingers. “I mean, I guess at times, but I never really… hated you-hated you.”

“Why not? I woulda hated me, too, so I won’t take it personally.”

“I told you… you had your moments.”

There was a look in her eyes that told me there was something she wasn’t telling me. But I wasn’t going to push it.

“But anyway, yeah, so…” she cleared her throat and sat straight. “Senior year was crazy. That was the year I really started drinking, even before my parents’ deaths.”

“Weren’t you like a genius scientist, though?”

“You can be a genius and a screw up at the same time, Wynonna,” she quirked a brow. “I thought I could… cheat the system, I guess. Like, I was different, you know? Like the effects of alcoholism wouldn’t just alter my whole entire life. _I was smart! I understood the science behind it! I won’t let it affect me_! It was all addict bullshit I told myself, y’know?”

“Oh, I know…” I scoffed to myself. “I kept telling myself it was just Earp genes up until, what? Last week?” I chuckled.

“Well,” she started in a high-pitched voice. “It definitely can be genes. But… that doesn’t mean it’s still not a problem that can be treated, though. And it’s better late than never, so you should be proud.”

“Right,” I smiled small. “So, how’d you eventually out-bullshit yourself?”

“Um, so,” she sighed, “after their… passing, I got a lot worse. I had already turned 18 when it happened, I’m an only child, and my parents had cut off relations with their siblings, so I inherited the will. And with that, I just… used most of it for partying. Even got a DUI despite knowing what caused my parents’ death, did very little jail time, and of course, flunked freshmen and sophomore year of college. So eventually, I dropped out.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said, and with a mind of its own my hand darted to cover Rosita’s in her lap. Her eyes shot down at our hands and I felt my palm tingle but it was too late to remove it – not that I wanted to. “And your turning point?”

“Well, I let a lot of people down… and after a certain amount of time, I could finally see the pattern of destruction I was leaving and… well, do you wanna know what I tell people or the full truth?”

“I mean, I’d love the full truth, but obviously go with whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”

“When people ask me what made me finally get clean, I tell them what I just told you; the _general_ answer – noticing the pattern and eventually admitting to needing help. Everyone has a specific moment that just made them snap and I _know_ I did too but… the sad thing is, I don’t remember.”

I furrowed my brows at her in question in which she just gulped, looked down at our hands, and gripped mine tighter.

“It’s hard to explain but… I remember having that feeling. That exact split second of _hey, you need to get your shit together, no more fuckups,_ but I don’t remember _why_. This isn’t an inspiring story or anything, by the way. I was just too drunk to even remember what made me decide to sober up. I just did. I woke up the next day and the last people I spoke to told me they were proud of my decision and I had no idea what they were talking about. But I liked the praise I got so I kept it going,” there was a look of shame in her eyes as she watched my face for a reaction. “I’ve never told anybody that because I was seen as this total mess that just… made this 180-degree change that everybody was so proud of and inspired by that I didn’t know how to say, you know, I don’t really have a story to look up to. I just liked the praise from a decision I made _while_ drunk and went from there.”

“But you do,” I said immediately. “You are someone to look up to. You could’ve easily backed down. You could’ve easily went back to your old ways, but you didn’t. And whether you were drunk or not, you still made that decision, so you had it in you. You’re three years sober now, Rose. And you wanna keep it up, don’t you? That’s inspiring. And that’s why I’m glad you’re my sponsor.”

Silence. I felt one corner of my lips twitch, wondering if I said anything wrong, as I gazed into the pool of dark brown eyes that were just gazing back. Then I noticed the small and appreciative smile that grew on her lips before she chuckled and turned her head to the side.

“What?” I knitted my brows together and pulled my hand away, just to have Rosita pull my hand back and keep it held in her lap. I swallowed hard as my eyes darted to our hands once more before repeating, “ _What_?”

There was a joyful smile on her face; smug and hiding laughter, but also appreciative somehow.

Her thumb brushed circles against my knuckles, “I mean, I knew I could turn you soft, Earp, but damn…”

“Oh, _fuck off_ ,” I exclaimed immediately, rolling my eyes with a tint of laughter in them and aggressively but lightheartedly pulling my hand away again – only because it was making my hands sweat and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I looked back at her again and saw that same smug smile – and _holy shit_ – a goddamn lip bite. It was the kind where her teeth remained dug deep into her bottom lip and I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. Off _those lips_. Those lips I was beginning to imagine pressed against my own, my neck, my—

“I like it when you’re like this,” she said, thankfully interrupting my indecent thoughts but unthankfully creating new ones.

“Like what?” I scoffed, “Soft?”

“Vulnerable. Being able to show it, I mean.”

My eyes looked down and I stayed silent, pressing my lips together. I didn’t like showing any vulnerable side of mine, but it was something I needed to overcome for recovery.

“Anyway,” she chuckled and cleared her throat. “So, yeah, I just sobered up, got back on the right track, got back into uni for a degree in biochemistry and hoping to get into masters, too. But I did relapse. Once. Hence being three years sober instead of five. But that’s unimportant now,” she took a deep breath in and grinned in finality. “So! Your turn. If you want to.”

I raised my eyebrows and sighed, “Oof. Where do I start?”

So, I told her everything. I told her about Mama getting too deep into drugs and leaving after Dad died, I told her how aunt Gus treated us after becoming our guardian, and how she kicked me out the second she got the chance to and I had to go through the system for a while but I’d hang out with Waverly in the day whenever I got the chance – especially during school. I told her how after I turned eighteen, we had to call child services on Gus because she was definitely not a good influence on Waverly and that I could take over. I then told her how I had to be Waverly’s guardian and how I had to ensure I was good enough so she wouldn’t go through the system either, how I could barely do it, and how I fled to Greece the instant she turned eighteen. I told her how I wasn’t the greatest guardian, but I tried.

“Drinking was the only way I knew how to escape from all the pressure. And being in the system, well, I’d guess that’s when it all started if I had to pinpoint when it all began for the most part. Obviously, foster parents were not good influences at all. When I was a lot younger, one of them even used to, uh… ask me to drink with them and took photos of me smoking because of whatever perverted reason. I didn’t know any better,” I gulped and looked down at my hands. “I’ve never told anyone that part, actually. Not even Waverly.”

“Why’d you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “You told me something you hadn’t told anyone before, either, and… you don’t show pity. I like that you just listen. I don’t know.”

She grinned softly and I continued to look down at my fidgety hands, my hair covering her view of my face. I felt her pushing herself slightly closer to me and suddenly pushing my hair behind my ear.

I looked up and found her face only inches away from mine.

“I’m glad you told me.”

My bottom lip quivered because cherry blossoms were invading my senses and Rosita’s lips were in reaching distance and I fucking let all this vulnerability out and—

She cleared her throat and backed away.

Shit, was I staring too much?

“You’re really strong for going through what you did,” she said. “Thanks for opening up to me.”

“You okay?” I questioned. “I’m sorry if I said anything too triggering or—”

“No, no, you didn’t. Not even in the slightest. I like you talking to me.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, scrunching my lips to the side in contemplation.

She grinned to herself as she traced her fingers upon her own knee and said in a quiet, almost shy voice, “You know how I said you had your moments? Back in high school?”

“Yeah?”

“They were moments like these,” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip and continuing to trace her own knee to keep her eyes away from mine. “I don’t know if you remember, but there were times you picked up Waverly or just came to hang out with her when me and her were still in middle school – and now I get why, but at the time I hadn’t. And almost each time, you’d nod your head at me like we were friends. Then in high school, I was Waverly’s friend and I wasn’t a close enough friend of hers for you to refrain from picking on me, but close enough that you also had your moments with me. Do you remember Phil?”

“Creepy Phil?” I asked, to which she nodded. “Ugh, unfortunately, I do.”

“Well, he used to be the typical pervert and try to get me to talk dirty in Spanish because he thought it was hot. One time, he crossed a line and I tried to stand up for myself and tell him to back off, but he continued to be a dick. You noticed something was wrong and you came and you pushed him away and you said,” she brought up her index finger with a smile on her face before continuing, “ _Rosie here might be a little asshat, but she’s my asshat and only I get to pick on her_ , and of course you were older than the both of us and… well, you were scary, so he backed off.”

“Oh, shit, I do remember that, actually!” I laughed as I thought back to the memory. “Vaguely, though.”

“Yeah, do you remember what you told me, after?”

I shook my head.

“You told me to get your number off of Waverly and to call you if he ever bugged me again.”

I gazed into her eyes with a curious smile on my lips, trying to picture the memory. “You never did, though, did you?”

“No, but could you blame me? One second you were straight up bullying me, the next you were protecting me and the cycle continued. It was confusing as hell.”

“Oof,” I sighed. “I wish I could tell you why I was like that, but I was probably just as confused, what with me being drunk as hell half the time.”

“Yeah, whether it was intentional or not, I would’ve let myself hate you for that kinda manipulation too if I didn’t…” she stopped mid-sentence and sighed.

“Didn’t what? Have the undeniably gayest crush on me?” I joked, flicking my hair behind my shoulder.

“You knew?” She shot her head towards me.

“What?”

“What?”

No fucking way.

“You had a crush? On _me_?”

“Fuck,” she gulped and looked down at her thighs before covering her face with the palms of her hands in embarrassment. “Ok, no, listen—it wasn’t like that.”

“So, you didn’t have a crush on me?” I smirked and tilted my head at her in doubt.

“Ok, no, yeah, I did,” she laughed and covered her face again. Her face burnt red. “But no, like—you don’t get it! It was stupid. Middle school was absolute shit and the only thing I looked forward to was the cool high schooler nodding at me at the end of the day. It was stupid. So stupid. I was a kid and so obviously that crush stuck with me a little bit even after I found out you were a dickface.”

I mean, at this point, I was just cracking up. She could barely string one sentence together without struggle. Who fucking knew?

“It’s not funny!” She shouted and aggressively hit at my shoulder a couple of times.

“I’m sorry, I’m just—,” I let out a few last laughs. “I feel super sorry for the poor asshole that is _little Rosie_ to have had a crush on me.”

She rolled her eyes, “yeah, you should be.”

I scanned her face and widened my eyes at a realization, “Wait, do you still…?”

It was unlikely and I knew it but I still hoped.

“Oh my God, no, of course not! Absolutely not. Nope. Not even a little bit. Not at all. No—that is way, way, _way_ behind us. Like—ages ago. No,” she _very much_ emphasized.

“Damn, I mean I get it, but why the _orchestra_ of no’s?”

She laughed and I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach joining the forest of butterflies that increased in number every single time I heard that laugh.

What if I did listen to the voices in the back of my mind? Because they’ve been getting louder and louder and I wanna give in _so_ badly. It almost felt like a craving – like I was replacing my addiction to alcohol with something else; something… pure, and beautiful, and _safe_.

Yet, not safe at all. It’s something that can ruin my whole process – something that could destroy us both if we let it; _feelings_.

This _is_ what a crush feels like, isn’t it? The way I so badly desire to be around her? The way I hang on to every word that her lips wrap around?

The way cherry blossoms are suddenly my new favorite type of flower?

Fuck.

And before I knew it, before I could even think twice of it, I blurted out, “I think I wanna change sponsors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that gives the WRONG IMPRESSION WYNONNA!!
> 
> and I know I haven't addressed some of the plot holes in rosita's story from the last few chapters yet but there wasn't much of an opening in this ch. it really aint that deep anyway, but yeah


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night at Rosita's place continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i'm so late with this so I made it completely wynsita content from start to finish again. Still simple, but adds to the slow burn! 
> 
> Enjoy x

_Things could be different but I don’t know how_ _  
I'm going through changes  
Through all of this strangeness  
I'm going through changes now_

_“I think I wanna change sponsors.”_

The joy that was in her eyes was washed over with a mix of shock, confusion, and sorrow.

“W-what?” She knitted her brows together. “Is this because of the crush? Because I told you, I _swear_ that’s over with, if it seemed unconvincing, then—”

“No, no,” I quickly interrupted her because that is _not_ why I said it.

I did not say it because of the possibility of her having feelings for me – because I know she doesn’t, she _couldn’t_ – but I said it because _I_ might have feelings for _her_.

And fuck, I can’t believe I just admitted that to myself… (watch me deny it in five minutes time.)

I racked through my brain for something to tell her. _Anything_. She was sitting there watching me with the saddest yet cutest of puppy eyes just waiting for me to continue and I needed to say _something_ —

“Remember what you told me about dating sponsors?” I quickly said and realized that sounded way, _way_ worse than I intended.

“Um—” she started.

“No, wait, I mean… I don’t want to date you—no, I mean… I don’t _not_ want to date you but like—no I don’t want to date you, that wasn’t my point— _fuck_ ,” I facepalmed at the way this was sounding like it was going somewhere else entirely. “What I’m trying to say is that I was thinking about _why_ that rule existed and I assumed it was because, like, who do you go to when you face issues with your sponsor and then it’d be mentally hard to switch so late, right?”

She laughed lowly, “Sure, yeah, but—”

“So, that must be the case for… _friends_ too, right?” _There you go._

“I mean…” she tilted her head.

“Because I like you a lot. As a friend, of course,” I chuckled casually – when really, my heart was literally racing up my fucking throat – and continued, “And don’t get a big head or anything, but like… I don’t have many friends and I tend to fuck shit up and I don’t wanna do that with you.”

I gave myself a mental pat on the back for saying that when really, I so badly wanted to say, _“I can’t help this feeling that we crossed paths again for a reason deeper than this and your smile is **so** pretty, I don’t think I can handle missing out on kissing that smile in the future_ _and you keep spinning in circles around in my head and it makes me really dizzy but I kind of like it and I don’t want to feel shame for that and for the first time in, I think ever, I think I understand why they call it a ‘ **crush’**.”_

The corners of her lips curved upwards ever so slightly, which took a moment that felt like it lasted forever as she just… looked at me. She then shook her head, cleared her throat, and responded.

“Okay so, like I told you, none of those rules are really set in stone. There are grey areas and nothing is ‘off limits’ in that aspect, they’re just _recommendations_ ,” she explained. “However… if it’ll make you feel more comfortable, then I will one hundred percent respect that.”

“You sure?” I nibbled on the corner of my bottom lip.

“Yeah,” she smiled with a sparkle of reassurance in her eyes. “And anyway, I don’t have to be your sponsor to still help you out if you ever need a shoulder to lean on. Because, that’s what friends do, right?”

Slowly starting to regret using that word.

“Right,” I smiled back. “I’m sorry for getting you excited and all for your first sponsorship, though.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was way too soon for me anyway, so this decision might be a good thing for me, too,” she waved her hand and dismissed my apology. “Who’re you thinking of switching to, though?”

“Fuck, I don’t know…” I furrowed my brows at the realization that I hadn’t even considered who I’d feel comfortable with. “What about Doc?”

She raised her eyebrows at that, “He’s been sober for about two months. A sponsor is usually at least 9 years sober – I was just an exception, I guess.”

I huffed and brushed a hand through my hair.

“There’s no rush, you know,” she raised her hand to my shoulder and rubbed it gently – reassuringly. “I’m here for you until then.”

Do I deserve it, though? I wondered.

But instead all I said was, “Thank you. Me too. As much as I can, at least.”

“Of course,” she nodded and dropped her hand. “You hungry? I could order some takeout.”

I lit up. “Tacos?”

She laughed at my immediate response, “Tacos it is.”

She pulled out her phone and while she tapped around on it, I roamed my eyes around the room. While it definitely seemed to be made homier and cozier, it still seemed… lonely. Like Rosita tried to add her own touches to it where she could, but something held her back.

A few shelves near a definitely unused grand piano caught my eye. It seemed to stand out from the rest of the room.

“Do you play?” I asked, nodding towards the piano.

“Oh, no not really. I got lessons when I was a kid but it wasn’t really my thing,” she shrugged.

I stood up and asked, “May I?”

“Go for it.”

I walked towards the piano bench which had a thin layer of dust over it. I slid in and traced my fingers over the also dusty piano keys.

“I didn’t know you played,” Rosita commented, walking towards me with her phone in hand.

“I don’t,” I stated simply, not meeting her eyes. “Waverly does. She was the musical prodigy in the family at one point. She used to learn at Shorty’s—even did a few improvised gigs there.”

“Ah, yeah, I remember all the _countless_ amount of talent shows she entered back in school.”

I chuckled softly in pride for her, with maybe a touch of envy. “Yeah. I’m happy she got that kind of experience.”

I looked up to find soft brown eyes on mine, as though they were reading me – looking right through me. She slowly slid in next to me on the piano bench, our thighs touching and erupting that newly familiar burning sensation from my thighs to my chest. She held up her phone open on the restaurant’s page without another word. I took the phone, put in my order which I had practically memorized, and handed it back to her. She quickly confirmed the order and set the phone on top of the piano.

“This is the only melody I remember,” she suddenly voiced, raising only her right hand to the piano keys.

I watched intently as her fingers moved across the same five keys, immediately recognizing the tune.

“Is that fucking Yankee Doodle?” I laughed.

“Yep,” she chuckled wholeheartedly and abruptly stopped playing. “It’s the easiest one I could remember. Look,” she pointed to somewhere along the keys, “put your thumb on the middle C.”

“The fuck is the middle C?”

She didn’t laugh or make fun. Instead, she placed her hand over mine and moved it over the keys, positioning my thumb over what I could only assume was the middle C.

“So, a piano consists of seven keys along with their flats and sharps – which are the black keys – on repeat. You playing the C over here is basically the equivalent of me playing it on the other end, but just a lower pitch.”

“Hmm,” I pulled the corners of my lips downward in consideration. “The more you know.”

“And Yankee Doodle is just…” She started, gently positioning my fingers over the right keys, her right hand right over mine. And despite the difference in size – hers being much smaller – she used my hand as if it were her own, pressing my fingers down in sequence to the song. “And then…” she moved my hand again, and repeated the process.

I didn’t know what to focus on; learning the keys, the feeling of her fingers on mine, or the way her slim fingers looked so appealing as she pressed down on mine.

But then she stopped and removed her hand. I looked at her and she was simply smiling at me.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded enthusiastically. “Well, the beginner’s version, at least, because that’s all I know how to do,” she laughed. “Try it on your own.”

This was silly. This was absolutely the silliest thing to focus on yet here she was, teaching me how to play the beginner’s version of a fucking children’s song and making it feel so important. And with my limited knowledge on really anything, I couldn’t help but feel enlightened that Rosita wanted to teach me – even if it was an easy children’s song – like it _wasn’t_ silly at all.

I cleared my throat and looked down at my hand still placed over the keys. The song was three keys in consecutive order, and then alternating those same keys very few times which I didn’t think I could remember. But I tried.

“Oh my God, I think I almost did it,” I lit up, feeling my mouth turn into a smile wider than I would’ve expected at recognizing the tune my own fingers played.

“You did!” Rosita laughed and placed her hand on my shoulder in praise. “I know it’s a stupid song, but it feels empowering, doesn’t it?”

“Weirdly enough, it does,” I slumped my shoulder and stared at the keys. “So, I’m sorry, what did I do wrong, again?” I genuinely asked, like I was determined on getting it right. The excitement I felt on learning it made me feel almost child-like.

I also might’ve wanted to feel her fingers on mine again.

I looked at her and I found her smiling at me like I was… something. I don’t know what. But I was there. I felt _seen_.

“It’s totally okay, it’s confusing at first,” she eventually dismissed and continued to teach me, same as the first time.

And it went on. It went on until I got it right – which didn’t take too long.

After I practically squealed at getting it right and Rosita cheered for me, her hand landed just above my knee, and I looked to the side where her face was just inches from mine, a satisfied grin spread across her lips. I shyly cleared my throat and glanced down at her hand, then back at her smile, mine matching hers.

“Thanks, it was cool to learn that,” I breathed out softly, unable to help the way my eyes dropped down to her lips.

And as I felt her hand burning through my jeans and the urgent desire to kiss her lips emerging from the pit of my stomach, I realized one thing: I didn’t think of drinking once.

No, I couldn’t care less about my usual cravings. I was immersed in a new craving; a craving for _her_.

My eyes drew back to hers, pools of brown almost _mocking_ me, but I could swear I saw them on my lips too.

She only nodded gently in response to my thanks, the silence around us _deafening_. The air felt heavy and I had one goal in mind that seemed to ignore all other consequences.

But then the bell rang and she cleared her throat, stood up, and wiped the back of her shorts. “I guess it’s taco time,” she grinned and made her way to the front door.

I clumsily stood up and recollected myself, silently thankful for the interruption of what was about to be one of my biggest mistakes yet, before I roamed my eyes through the shelves I had my eyes on earlier. It was lined with a few self-help books, children’s novels – like The Giver, The NeverEnding Story, and Walk Two Moons – along with frames of her parents, DVDs of Halloween-themed movies, Christmas-themed movies, and DVD sets of Fleabag seasons one and two.

“You a fan of Fleabag, huh,” I said, pointing at the DVD sets and turning to Rosita placing the food on the coffee table. “Oh,” I realized I should probably help her set up and skipped my way over to her. I rummaged through my pockets for my mini wallet, “Also, wait, I have—”

“Don’t even think about it, Earp,” she simply said, not bothering to look up. “It’s paid for online and anyway, this one’s on me.”

I sighed, “Well, I won’t say no to free tacos. But next one’s on me, then. Thanks.”

She chuckled and nodded, slipping her hands in the back pockets of her shorts, “And to answer your question, yeah, Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a fucking icon,” she started walking towards the kitchen. “I’ve watched Fleabag like, five times.”

I pulled out the packaged food and utensils and spread them out neatly on the table before sitting down, barely thinking when I said the next thing that came out of my mouth. “Care to make it six?”

She gasped as she made her way back from the kitchen, soda and water in hand, “You’ve never seen Fleabag?”

“Nope and I get shit for it every day. I wanna see what the hype is about.”

Inaudible noises came out of the younger girl as she practically ran to get the DVDs, came back, and was already pushing the first CD into her Blu-ray device.

“Okay so, I don’t want you to put your expectations too high. It’s quick, funny, simple – but oh so powerful.”

“Alright, I’ll keep my expectations at a minimum,” I clicked my tongue casually and raised my hand forming the ‘okay’ signal.

She grabbed the remote and squealed as she skipped over to the couch, jumped on it, and folded her legs over each other. My heart fluttered at her excitement and I found myself smiling at her giddiness by my side instead of looking at the screen in anticipation.

“Let’s go?”

“Let’s go,” I smiled.

She hit play and we watched as we ate our dinner, poking fun at each other every now and then for the messy eating. It was casual and it was sweet and it felt _familiar_ ; like we’ve hung out a thousand times before.

But then we finished eating. We paused to clean up and then we were back at it but the food was no longer there to distract our hands. I felt tension in my body, like I was actively aware of every move I made, carefully making sure I never got too comfortable or too… close.

Rosita didn’t seem to have the same problem. Because one second, she was hugging her knees and paying close attention, and the next she was stretching her neck and pushing herself closer to me.

“Do you mind if I…?” She questioned, gesturing to cuddle my side.

“Uh, yeah, no, I don’t mind,” my body stiffened as she pushed even closer and snuggled my side, her head on my chest and her arm across my stomach. I raised my arm to wrap around her shoulders, but I was sure my body was too stiff to be considered comfortable.

“Ease up, I’m not gonna bite you, Wyn,” her chuckle vibrated against my chest. “But we can stop watching whenever you want, by the way.”

“No, no,” I quickly said. “I’m enjoying this.” Whatever _this_ was.

I might’ve been feeling my heart pounding but I didn’t want it to stop. I just hoped she couldn’t hear it. I hoped she couldn’t tell that having her smell invade my senses and her body pressed against mine had me wanting so much more.

She hummed and shifted as I relaxed my body and she got more comfortable. To emphasize my comfort to her, I moved my hand from her shoulder down to wrap around her waist instead. She gripped my side harder at that, which, at this point, I can safely say sent my heart soaring to another fucking galaxy.

But despite that, I tried my best to pay attention. I paid attention for Rosita’s sake; she loved this show and it clearly meant a lot to her. Otherwise, I would’ve easily kept my attention on her.

“You’re kinda like her, you know,” she mumbled.

“Like who?”

She nodded her head towards the screen, “Fleabag.”

I didn’t know what to make of that.

“Damaged?” I scoffed lightheartedly.

“Strong,” she corrected without a single drop of hesitation.

My heart felt even heavier at that. Rosita – someone I’m finding to be one of the strongest people I know – thinks _I’m_ strong.

 _Bruh_.

“So, I remind you of one of your favorite characters? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It _is_ a compliment, dumbass,” she playfully hit the side of my stomach.

“Ow!”

She laughed and then relaxed, “And… not to toot my own horn, but I see a lot of myself in Fleabag, too.”

From what I’ve watched so far, Fleabag was dealing with a loss, she was mourning, and she coped with it the only way she knew how to; self-destruction masked with humor and wit. I hadn’t seen Rosita when she was first mourning, but I wondered how Fleabag’s relationship with herself (or the audience she spoke to) would evolve and how Rosita might’ve related to it.

Suddenly, she removed herself from my hold to grab the remote and pause the show.

“This is weird, but…” she started as she turned her body to face me and looked down at her hands. “I think that’s one of the reasons I feel… connected to you.”

_Breathe, Wynonna. Breathe._

“W-what?”

She gulped, “I think we both dealt with things in ways we shouldn’t have. I, for one, know that I’ve done things I’m not proud of. And when my parents passed, I was hanging by a thread; I didn’t know how to survive without… without destroying myself, ironically.”

I was at a loss for words – confusion evident on my face, I was sure.

“Something I learned, though,” she sighed. “There’s a step during recovery where you make amends to people you’ve harmed, right? You admit your wrongs and you ask for forgiveness. But I realized we’re always so concerned over gaining forgiveness from others, but forget to forgive ourselves – not for what we’ve done to _others_ – but for what we’ve done to _ourselves_.”

“For drinking ourselves into oblivion?” I playfully scoffed but her gaze on me only intensified.

“For not treating our own bodies and minds with love and respect—for not _loving_ ourselves,” she looked at me as though she knew it struck a chord for me.

I gulped and looked down at my hands. “Have you forgiven yourself?”

“I think I’m getting there. And seeing as you’ve taken your first steps, I think you’re on your way there too.”

“You think so?” I heard my voice come out softer than I expected it to, like it was dripped in uncertainty.

I was uncertain because, all jokes aside, I don’t see me loving myself. I can’t see myself as worthy for much, but I wanted to try to. I knew that was important, I did, but forgiving myself for the way I’ve treated my own mind? I can’t see myself ever thinking I didn’t deserve it at one point.

“I _know_ so,” she said, confident as ever in her own words. “I see so much potential in you and I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for it. But I get it, ‘cause I’ve been there, and I’m still there sometimes.”

I felt a pang of pain in my chest as I wondered how on earth there were moments that Rosita couldn’t see her own potential. But I also felt an odd form of satisfaction at her seeing that potential in me. I don’t know if she was just trying to be nice but something in her voice told me it was genuine. That was another thing I noticed about Rosita; she only ever spoke words of truth – words she truly _believed_ in.

Before I could respond, my phone vibrated with a text notification from Waverly. Rosita watched closely as I pulled my phone out and read her text.

**_Waverly_ ** _: Hey Wyn, are you still at Rosita’s?_

I looked at the time and noticed it was a little past midnight.

**_Wynonna_ ** _: shit i didn’t notice the time. i’ll make it back soon._

**_Waverly_ ** _: No, if you’re enjoying your time, don’t. There’s no need to. I was just checking. :’)_

I looked up at Rosita’s curious eyes, “it’s Waverly. I didn’t notice it was past midnight already, I’m sorry if I’m overstaying.”

She scoffed and nudged my shoulder, “Wynonna, please. You’re more than welcome here for as long as you want. I like having your company.”

My smile spread wide at that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And there are only four episodes left of this, if you don’t mind staying late, we could continue this marathon ‘til the end.”

“Shit, we’re already almost done?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Each season is just six short episodes, but it wraps together perfectly.”

“Alright, fuck yeah, let’s do this.”

She beamed at that, “I’ll make us some popcorn!”

“You’re reading my fucking mind here, Rosie,” I said as she laughed gloriously and made her way to the kitchen. “Do you have some blankets? I’ll go get some.”

I pulled out my phone to text Waverly back as I stood up.

**_Wynonna_ ** _: i think imma stay a bit longer. don’t wait up. good night._

**_Waverly_ ** _: I’m glad you are! Have fun and good night! x_

And so, Rosita told me where the blankets were. I then helped her with the popcorn and we snuggled on the couch in a way that felt so _natural_. And I realized then that we didn’t need a reason to just… hang out. I was, I guess, unfamiliar with this concept for people other than Waves or Haught. We were long past done with the “talk” I came here for, but I stayed for nothing short of keeping each other company. There was no sex involved, no talk or obligation, no motive, no reason other than to keep each other company, which felt… it felt good, for a lack of better words. I felt significant.

And so, we watched and watched until the show ended. And the ending gave me a sense of calming. But I also worried that it would be my cue to leave and I didn’t want to – not yet. So, we spent some more time together analyzing the ending and sharing opinions and I felt myself hanging on to her every word.

So, I found myself asking more questions solely to hear her speak. And I felt the smile on my lips spread wider and wider with every word she spoke.

Anything to push going home a bit further away. Because words I heard every day suddenly sounded angelic as her lips wrapped around every syllable with a fire of passion I strived for.

And going home meant wrapping my mind around these feelings and I couldn’t trust myself with what I’d do with it.

No, instead, I wanted to enjoy it while I could. I wanted to enjoy feeling drunk and _alive_ with her smell and her voice and her eyes that seemed to be getting more and more mesmerizing every minute.

And then when I’m home, I’ll face the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midterms have been around so my mind's been foggy but I promise to try my best to update this more regularly. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! All feedback is welcome. 
> 
> The song at the beginning is Changes by Langhorne Slim & The Law.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you'd like to see. 
> 
> [ This is my twitter fan account ](https://www.twitter.com/wynsita_) if you'd like to message privately. (@wynsita_)


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